


Your Kiss Like Milk

by Agent C (arh581958)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alpha Phil, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Forced Orgasm, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Sexual Encounter, I am not nice to Clint, I'm also not nicer to Coulson, Lactation, M/M, Mpreg, Not sure if PWP or not, Omega Clint, READ FULL WARNINGS INSIDE, dubcon, there's an actual story here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3778318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Agent%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After bad intel in a mission, Phil finds himself on the inside of their latest terrorist cell: an underground corporation dedicated to selling highly expensive human resources. They force breed omegas, sell their children, and harvest their milk. In his capture, he meets a special male omega. It will take both of them to survive the escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Kiss Like Milk

**Author's Note:**

> This work is not beta-read. I wrote this at 1am in the morning because I am stressed with final exams and I cannot concentrate anymore. 
> 
> This work contains very dark images. FULL WARNINGS BELOW. I didn't want to put them here without ruining the plot of the whole story.

When Phil wakes up, the first thing he notices is the telltale weight of straps encircling his extremities. The second thing he notices is the coolness of his limbs, signalling that he was very much naked. The third thing he notices is the hushed grunts coming from above him. He opens his eyes and a pair of kaleidoscope eyes stare back at him.

"Glad you're finally awake to join the program" the man--blonde and naked--manages to say mid-gasp as he impales himself on Phil's cock.

Phil inhales deeply, brain finally registering the deep sweet scent of an omega in heat. The smell of antiseptic and drugs were muddling up his senses. He knows he's under some kind of influence because he cannot move a single muscle.

"Pity you started without me" he deadpans, managing to sound absolute monotone despite the surge of heat that is currently engulfing his cock. The blonde, manages to snag against his knot every other stroke. It's enough to make any other alpha insane but not him. He's gone through worse.

The man chuckles at his response. "Sorry about uh--ahhh" he curls in on himself bracing against the railings of the, for the lack of a better term, bed. Oh god, he has fantastic arms.

By now Phil realizes that the blonde is not actually moving on his own. He's attached to some sort of contraption that has his thighs spread apart, a thick leathery strap around his stomach, and a collar on his neck. He is sweating profusely, drenching his hair and spraying Phil with sweat at every motion. He is also shivering.

Phil can feel the curling on his gut and the tightening in his balls. He forces himself to hold it together.

"Don't" the blonde chokes out. "Please, let's get this over with. The sooner you come. The sooner it's over." It's said weakly in a raspy broken voice like the man's been at it for hours without release. He might have too. Phil doesn't know how long he was out. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. "Fill me. Alpha, please" the man begs and Phil comes.

His orgasm hits him harder than anything in a long time. He feels his seed coming out in spurts. The machine, seemingly sensing his orgasm, pushes the man on top him harder and buries Phil's cock in a slick tightness. The man's hole clenches around him and he feels his knot growing to its full length. He proudly holds in his groan. The blonde jerks above him almost-violently. Phil can tell that the man is close as well. He can feel it resonating from his cock.

The man stills, his eyes grow wide and he struggles against his bind. "No! Please no. I don't want to. Not that. Please."

Phil watches with horror as a tube-like thing is attached to the other man's cock just as he comes. ' _They are milking him'_ he dawns with a startle, _'milking him like common cattle!'_. Rage wells up in his chest, alpha instincts going into overdrive. He jerks violently against the restraints wanting nothing more that to rip the guy on the lab coat with his bare hands. He sees the bruising on the guy's legs. They are old and partially healed. Sweet Jesus, how many times has he been through this?

Alarms begin to sound and he hears footsteps rushing into the room. He struggle harder and hears the tear on his bindings just as a sharp pain shoots up his neck. He lets out a feral growl. He forces himself to focus. Behind his rapidly blurring vision, he watches the white liquid pumps into the long plastic tube. The sound of suction is deafening. More and more people begin shouting in the background.

The last thing he sees is the omega's concerned face looking at him before he blacks out completely.

***

The next time he wakes up. He feels the coldness of the ground and he aching in his right shoulder. He is laying on his side, curled up in the middle of a concrete room. The air is damp and stale. There are no windows just a metal door where light leaks from the outside hallway. The rooms is eerily dark.

It takes Phil a full minute, and he'll blame it on the drugs is his system, to smell the second scent in the room. It's dull now but familiar. He scents the air and works out the same scent from his last waking moment.

"Hey" the guy speaks, seemingly aware that Phil's back to from lalaland. "You okay? Nauseous? Light-headed? They got you pretty drugged up than normal. It'll take awhile to get it out of your system."

Phil raises a hand and waves gently. "No" he croaks like he hasn't spoken in days. "I'm good. You?"

The guy lets out a light-hearted laugh and Phil can't help but turn to him. He's definitely the same: blonde hair, tan skin, thick arms. He takes a moment to catalogue the rest of the man's appearance: the man is quite gorgeous. He looks young; younger than Phil but it's hidden by the hallows of his face. No doubt their captors sell his children too. His genetics is amazing. Despite having been in SHIELD for seven years, that thought actually makes him sick like puking.

He eyes the man's square jaw, burly black and blue thighs, and slightly swollen belly. Then he really does puke on the floor. He manages to aim it at a far corner of the room, as far away as he can from the other man.

"You're pregnant" he says, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

The omega inhales. Phil can't tell if it's from the way he just got sick all over the floor or because of his statement. He waits it out.

"Not the first time" it's quiet but defiant.

"But how?" Phil knows it's not a polite question but he really isn't with polite company. He knows that omegas are able to produce milk for their young but not in he amounts he's seen _this_ particular omega producing. Plus, he was sure he smelled a heat the last time he was awake. It couldn't have been that long ago.

"Black market drugs. They keep me pumped up with heat hormones every few days and, well..." he looks away from Phil. "our first meeting."

"Why?"

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" He sounds standoffish. "Or haven't you seen a male omega before? Yes, we are rare and yes, we exist. Like females we produce milk and we don't need potent sperm like other genders so woopity-doo guess what mother nature decide do!"

"Is that why you were placed in artificial heat?"

The man seems taken back by the question. "Yes and no. Some rich-ass bastards think it's _sweeter_ that way. But it's hard when the machine's there and I can barely keep it up. That's why..." he blushes "I needed your knot to produce the stuff, ya know?"

Phil pales. These _monsters_ were using omegas like cattle. Their intel told them of a possible human trafficking ring who bred omegas but this wasn't in any of their files. Their files didn't tell them that the omegas in captivity were being milked as well for god knows what reason. He's heard seen omega milk being bagged as omegas come, omega females have breast pump but for heaven's sake he's never seen a male pump until their first encounter.

"I'm sorry" he says in a voice barely above a whisper. "What they're doing to you... I'm so sorry you have to go through this."

The man manages a broken laugh. "Stupid white collar fool, apologizing for something that isn't your fault."

"I just..."

"Don't" the man cuts him off.

Phil abruptly closes his mouth. A pregnant silence falls on the room. It stays like that until Phil can't stop the guilt welling up in his chest and the anger he can feel bubbling beneath his skin.

"How long have you been here?"

"In captivity or this cell?"

Phil pauses hen answers  "Both"

The man turns around, peering at the concrete wall behind him, before turning back to Phil. "Almost two years. We've only been back for an hour or two."

Phil nods and makes a calculation in his head. He's been missing for nearly a day. It will take another few hours before his schedule report time. He was stripped of his clothes and therefore had no other means to initiate a distress signal. There also is nothing inside the empty room except for a blanket and the mess he made on the floor. Nothing to forge a makeshift weapon either.

This mission is more fucked than he could ever have imagined. Intel was nearly 100% unreliable. When he gets back to base admin will be having a field-day and that's putting it lightly. It was supposed to be an in-and-out Op but there were more bad guys and heavier artillery than reported.

"Do you know if there are others?"

The man, again, looked down. "Five more on this site but there was an explosion on the upper floors half a day ago. I'm guessing you had something to do with it. I'm hoping they were evacuated but I don't really know. This is the isolation ward--was the isolation ward but then again you happened" Phil could tell he was trying to be light about it.

The explosion was indeed because of him. But he wasn't the one who fired the bazooka inside the building. It did however propel him hard enough into the wall that he hit his head and lost consciousness. Hence, his first encounter with his blond companion.

"We didn't know they had prisoners..."

The man scoffed. "We're part of merchandise, darling" he spat out with venom.

"I... is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well. It's getting pretty chilly and the floors a bitch on my back. Do you mind scooting over here and I make you my makeshift bed for the night?"

"Okay" he replies. It earns him a small smile from the blond as he scoots closer. The man smells amazing. It's muted but the scent is sweet and strong. It drowns him as the man settles closer, moulding their bodies together until his upper-half is resting on Phil. Phil wraps an arms around his shoulders and slides the blanket over them.

Just before the man's breathing evens out he whispers close to his companion's ear. "I'm Phil and there are people who will pay generously for that piece of information."

The other mumbles something incoherent. "Clint." He whispers back. "And they don't know who they've really captured."

The room grows silent. Clint's breathing evens out eventually. Phil lays awake wallowing in the fact that he has _Hawkeye_ sleeping in his arms. Hawkeye, master marksman, assassin, and mercenary sleeping peacefully in his arms. They thought he was dead. The report came out ages ago. It made absolutely no sense.

***

The third time, he's woken up by loud scuffling against the metal door and Clint stiffening in his arms. A metal tray of food is pushed through a doggy door which fades seamlessly as it closes. The smells is faint but it immediately earns a loud growl from Clint's stomach. Phil has the urge to stand and retrieve food for the starving omega 

"Are you hungry?"

"Tiny bit" Clint confesses.

Phil snorts. "If that was a tiny bit, I don't want to know what hungry you sounds like." He says, attempting to be nonchalant about the fact that he woke up in a cell with _Hawkeye_ and he was still alive. Plus, they were completely naked. Rumours say that he could kill ten men barehanded. But then again, rumours had him pegged to be a blue-eye brunet and not blond 

Clint shoves him slightly but not enough to hurt. As if on instinct, he slides out of the covers and reaches for the tray. He immediately brings he bowl of cold soup to the blonds' lips.

"Any good?" He muses while he holds half of Clint's weight against him.

"Like water"

"How often do they feed you?"

"Depends on the client. The higher the pay, the healthier I am."

Phil looks over the remaining items on the tray: a loaf of bread, some weird kind of processed meat, paper thin cheese, and water. There's barely enough for one. More so, if one of them was carrying a child. He'll have to wait it out. It's not the first time he's forgone a meal because of a mission. He'll survive.

Clint glances at the tray and pushes a plate to Phil. "You eat."

"I'm good. Still doozy from the drugs." Phil lies through his teeth as he puts on a bland expression. "It'd be a waste if I puke it out again."

The other shrugs. "Thank you. They forgot to feed me yesterday."

"I'm sorry--ow!" He rubs absently at where he was slapped on the chest.

"Not your fault" Clint says between bites. He devours the meal in minutes until there is nothing left, not even for ants to carry. It only proves how starving the omega really was. Phil thinks how hard it must be for Clint to carry a baby to full term under these conditions.

"How many...?" He starts but trails off. Clint watches his eyes and follows his gaze.

"This is my third."

"Third?" Phil parrots in disbelief. "But haven't you even..."

Clint shakes his head. "Naah. They knocked me up the month I got in. Milked me three months in. The second time it happened, they only waited a month. They pumped me with lactating drugs and forced my body to produce their nectar."

Phil observes as Clint curls just a bit onto himself. He eyes the swell on the muscled stomach. "How far along are you?"

"About two weeks."

He thanks heavens that he didn't bother eating. He feels like he'll be sick again. He dry heaves. He wants nothing more that to get them out and kill every single bastard responsible on the way out. But then again, that faith will be too merciful for them. He'll have to call in a favour. He doesn't even ask about the Alpha.

"Those bastards" he can't help but say.

Clint chuckles. It's a soft muted sound but releases the tension he didn't realize he was holding. "You'll have to wait. They usually take a day between milkings. Used to be a week but now it's like every other day like clockwork"

"A day, huh?" He snorts distastefully.

"Yeah. Maybe if we're lucky, two days."

"Does it hurt?"

Clint doesn't answer. It takes all of Phil's ranger training not to pry any further. He knows it a very personal question, one he can't reasonably expect the other to answer. After all, who would answer about the strange apparatus that sucks milk out of one's penis. The thought makes  the hair on Phil's neck stand up.

"A bit" the blond says after some time. "When they force me to orgasm more after I've reached my limit. Even with a knot, I'm not able to produce more that what my body dictates I can. There's usually more right after the pregnancy and they milk me for hour."

"And the machine?"

"Think plower except with a human dildo."

"That doesn't sound pleasant."

Clint's expression is playful when he says. "Not usually. Sometimes they set it up right."

"So what do they do when there isn't an alpha around?"

An eyebrow shoots up. "Are you kidding? An alpha is always available. They're bursting with  it." He says with a laugh. "Honey have you seen my ass? I've got alphas lining up for this, ya feel me?"

And Phil tries not to burst out laughing. He does, however, give Clint a smile.

***

They are taken away the following day. A team of five men enter the room with tasers and a gun. Phil makes no move to fight. He even slouches visibly in faux submission. If he acts weak, they might believe it and shoot him up less than the last time. They do. He counts the number of steps before each turn, how many turns in which order, and stores everything for later use.

They strap him down the bed without preamble, slicks up his cock, and pushes a needle to his neck. The effect is almost instant. His awareness dulls down and all he can think about is Clint's scent getting stronger. On the other side of the room, Clint cries out as lubed fingers prepare him for Phil's knot. He hates the alien touch of a stranger's hands. It makes him remember the circus.

One Clint is strapped up, they attach the condom-like device around his cock and lower him into. position. He, too, takes a needle to the neck and his heat begins to rise.

"Sorry about this" he mouths as he machine lowers is body in evenly spaced intervals.

Phil mouths back. "Not your fault, idiot"

Then Clint moans, loud, low, and broken. It drives straight to Phil's groin and make him harder. This effectively makes Clint moan even louder. "Fuuuuuuuck. You're so fucking big. You'll rip me open." He moans like a porn star and lowers his head long enough so Phil can see his eyes. He winks.

Phil understands. He moans throatily on the next trust. "Your hole is so tight. It's squeezing me so good. I'll fill you up real good. Fill you up  until you leak." And as he speaks, be begins to really feel it too.

Clint's tight hole is clenching around his cock deliciously. Phil watches him beneath the haze. His plan worked, he was pumped with less sedative than before. He could truly see how gorgeous the other man was. He could also see scars that littered Clint's body, some new and other long faded. Battle marks because he was a survivor.

He took the room under observation as well. He looked around while moaning like a common whore and grunting like he was enjoying it---it was a medical facility. Bare walls but the rest was filled by medical equipment. The straps on binding him were no more than four inches; tough but not impossible to break. He jerked up his hips, earning a surprised low moan from Clint.

"Fuuuuck, what are you doing?" The blond hissed under his breath as he curled into himself. He made himself fluid like the action was natural.

"Testing the binds" Phil replied barely moving his lips as he jerked again. "If we put on a show _they_ won't notice. _They_ are watching, right?"

Clint made half-a-nod and also pushed back against the restrains.

"That's good. The binds are old and weak. The leather is cracking." Phil murmurs after a few thrust. "We need to go at it harder, just a little more and it'll give." He looks closely as Clint, who manages a smirk. Suddenly Clint thrusts hard, straining his binds as he screams 

"FUCK. HARDER. HARDER. I wanna come. Please. Please. Please. It's not enough." Then there is honest-to-god tears rimming his eyes. He jerks so hard and sobs loudly, effectively faking a mid-sex breakdown. "Alpha. Alpha please, I need you deeper "

And Phil--Phil's only Alpha. He can't tell whether it was the mission objective or Clint's desperate moans that gives him the extra strength to fight against the binds. They creak under his hold. It's enough. He'll be able to break the straps with a little more pull. He struggles because his knot is catching on Clint's rims every other stroke. If they don't time it right. They will be placed in a compromised position. He fights back the urges to breed.

There are two guys in the lab. They look like tech more than muscle. He's guessing that the muscles is currently in another room where they can jerk-off to an omega being fucked--probably the most action they've seen in a long time. He take these guys out, easy. But a live feed would mean that they'll have grunts pouring in the about five minutes after they escape the binds. Five minutes will have to be enough.

By now, the straps were cracked and stretched. "Ready?" He asks just above a whisper.

"Yeah" Clint replies breathlessly.

"I'll move on three, ok?"

"Ok"

Phil counts on every up thrusts. "One, two----" then he looks straight into Clint waiting eyes and shouts "three!" He pulls on both arms, and true enough, the old leather cracks. An ala sounds and he techs scramble to get him sedated. He grabs the guy's arm and reroutes the syringe with a crack of bone. He pushes the plunger and pulls it out, throws it like a projectile to the other tech's jugular.

He reaches to undo all of Clint's binds before freeing himself.

"Buckle" the blond demands and Phil hands him the broken buckle from his wrist. He throws it expertly over Phil's shoulder. Something explodes and he room goes dark. The machine stops mid-plunge, Clint half-impaled but not to the knot. He shrugs and says "electricity box" without preamble. Then hisses when he detaches the milk pump. His swollen cock bobs on his stomach.

Between the two of them, they are able to gather weapons and intel within two minutes. They disrobe the fallen techs, Phil taking the bloody one farther away, to cover their bodies. "One minutes" he calls behind his back and sees Clint filling his pockets with small projectiles. "You ready?"

"Yeah, boss. As ready as ever." He yells back.

The door opens. They cut through the forces like knife through butter--okay, maybe not, but it was a whole lot better than having to go through the motions alone. They make an efficient team: the seemingly perfect pair. Phil protectively stands in front of the omega, trusting Clint to watch his back. They're holding stolen automatics with their pockets brimmed with ammunition.

"Getting low here, boss" Clint shouts from behind him. They are a barricade away from freedom. If they get passed the gates, they can make a run for the forest and to the designated extraction point. He'll have to call in his new companion but Fury shouldn't be too pissed. If this guys is Hawkeye, they'll want him brought in and not killed. They've wanted to bring him in for years but he's eluded all their efforts.

"How low is low?"

There is cursing from behind him before Clint responds roughly. "One shot and I'm out."

There is about a dozen more bad guys between them and the door. Phil is out of ammo as well. "How fast can you run?" He asks.

"Like lightning" comes the cocky responds.

"Follow my lead" Phil orders. Then like clockwork he's dismantling the gun with deadly competency and using each piece as a projectile. He swings hard, catching a guy in the back of the head. He pulls out the spring, gorges a guy's eye out. He flips the gun and barrels it to a guy's gut. He elbows the next guy. He takes off the top and severs a guy's artery. In on fluid motion, he uses the clip to slide another guy's throat. He throws the rest of the gun and hit a bad guy in the forehead.

With bare hands he uses a guy's gun strap to strangle him. Then he twists and throws the guy over his head straight for baddie number 11. The toss take more effort than he realizes and he stumbles back. A gun is fire and he feels the bullet burn against the side of his head. He looks back to a grinning Clint then turns. The last guy has a whole in the middle of his forehead.

They run for the exit, burst through the doors, and take refuge in the thickness of the woods. They're a five miles out from the extraction point. It'll take roughly a day and a half to get there and that's assuming they won't stop. By night fall, Phil feels his legs slowly becoming jelly. Exhaustion is deep-seated in his bones and each step feels like he's moving a ton of bricks. He remembers that his last meal was a clubhouse sandwich two days ago. He realizes for the first time that he is starving. But he's far too weak to hunt at the moment.

"There's small bunk four miles out, northeast. The code is ROMEO-OSCAR-CHARLIE-ALPHA-ONE-NINE. Ask for Marcus, Marcus Johnson. Tell him that Cheese wants in on San Paolo." He rasps, out of breath as he collapses on a tree trunk. The bark scrapes the back of his thighs and it stings. They're at a stream. Pulls out a small vial from his dirty lab coat. "Take a bath in the rover and put this on. It'll be freezing but it'll hide your scent you should be safe."

Clint takes the small vial and peers at it quizzically. "Where did you get this?"

"Swiped it from the lab. I figured they might track you heat scent but I guess they weren't as smart as I thought. But put it on just to be safe." He grimaces at the rapines of his own voice. He shivers. "Go before it gets darker."

He watches as Clint moves away and paddles into the river. He can hear the crunching of grass along the way. This way is easier. He's compromised and he's weak. He normally has a four-day non-eating stamina but having orgasmed multiple times and puking the remnant of what little he had, he was running dangerously low on fuel. He'll need to sleep but that in itself was a dangerous risk. The forest was not kind to everyone.

Surprisingly, he hears crunching towards him and a damp cloth covers his neck. He looks up. One of Clint's lab gown sleeves was ripped and used as a makeshift wash cloth. "Clint? I thought I said..."

"Yeah, yeah, bossman but I ain't that kind of boy" Clint snorts as he rubs the cloth over Phil's dirt-crusted face. "I don't leave behind friends and you got me out of my personal hell. Can you climb?"  Phil is too weak to protest.

"Climb?"

The blond points upward. "Up this tree. It'll be colder but the height will keep us away from animals while we rest. You look like you could use it."

"Sleep? Yeah. Maybe I could."

"Good. This one looks sturdy enough to hold us. I'll find a next and signal you" Clint says right before disappearing. His nimble form climbs the tree like a cat, long and lean with his muscles rippling beneath him. Phil cannot help but gawk at the display. Even pregnant, Hawkeye---Clint---moved with practiced grace. He waits patiently beneath the branches. He hears the rustle of leaves every so often.

"Bossman, up here five levels up." He hears Clint call out from somewhere above him. He looks up and sees Clint expertly perched on a sturdy branch. He's made a nest, an actual nest with branches and everything. Phil follows him up.

"Here" Clint offers the spot in the middle, shivering a little as the wind picks up. "I can take first watch."

Phil, sleep-dazed and slightly incoherent, pulls at his arm. "C'mere. Nothing will reach us here, right? Sleep. You're pregnant" he says, tugging Clint until the blonde is half-sprawled atop him. "Rest. I'll be better tomorrow." Then he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

***

Phil wakes up shivering. It's dawn by the way dew has formed on the leaves around them. It is dark and only the sound of Clint's breathing differs from the sounds of nature. He is sleeping like a cub, curled around Phil's torso. Phil is acutely aware of the heat between them but it didn't feel like a normal kind of heat. The wind picks up and he is shivering again.

"Fuck" he groans quietly. He can't be running a fever, not now. Then he feels the steady throbbing on his side. "Shit" one of the bastards managed to cut him and the gown has stuck against the wound. It's enough to close it for the mean time. It must be a light infection, nothing anti-backs at the rendezvous point can't fix. But he'll be weak. He looks down at the sleeping omega beside him---they have to make it out of this alive.

"Phil?" Clint mumbles sleepily. "You feel hot."

"I'm running a fever. Best not to get too close." Phil replies, gently pushing the other man away. "We need to get to the evac point today or risk getting worse. Ok?"

"Yeah" the other respond. They make it slowly down the tree and trek north. Phil is visibly figuring off shivers mid-day and he knows the omega can feel it. He can smell the anxiety in the air.

"I'll be fine" he says with some effort to keep his voice steady. "Keep going." As he says it, his vision slowly starts to blur, his sides begin to burn, and then he's falling into unconsciousness.

"Phil!" Clint shouts as the older man falls. "Please, wake up, please."

The man complies  "Clint?"

"Hi" he whispers. Clint feels so happy that he feels like he's gonna cry so he stammers  "You should eat. I'll get you something to eat. Berries. Berries are good. Sugar is good for you. You wait here, okay? I will be back."

He makes a beeline for the nearest bush and looks berries. He finds wild blackberries and grabs as many as he can. After which, he scampers back to Phil and carefully begins feeding the man until the colour returns to his cheeks. He feeds the berries one after the other. He can't let the man die. He just can't. He the first reliant Alpha that Clint's met in ages. 

 "Come on you, idiot" Clint clenches his teeth and pulls Phil onto his feet. "We've still got half a day. Let's make it worth it. They your stupid white ass can repay me for my trouble okay? I want body massages and the while she-bang."

Phil chuckles. "The whole she-bang. Got it." He huffs out. The berries do the trick and he's running on a sugar rush. He's got a timer on how long the high will last. Then he'll fall stronger that before having used up his adrenaline. He'll be dead weight by the end of the night. They trek up hill, re-hydrate through the nearby stream, and pack their pockets with as much edible things that they can find. Clint's also patched up his wound with some kind of medicinal remedy.

"Where'd you learn this?" Phil asks, gesturing to the make-shift bandage on his side.

"Circus. Madame Marla always had some ancient remedy up her sleeves. It's awfully useful too whenever Barney and I..." Clint stops mid-sentence, hands going still at Phil's side.

"That's okay." Phil says. "You don't have to say it."

Clint finishes the bandage with a knot and folds back the lab coat. "We'll have to change it again tonight." He replies, avoiding the topic completely. "How long until your evac point?"

Phil looks him in the eye. "Not long." He takes the blonds hand and squeezes. "We'll get out. Both of us. Then it'll be better. I promise."

The other man scoffs at that. "Like I am staying. No thank you. You and whatever alphabet government you work for. It ain't no place for a guy like me."

"SHIELD is pretty open-minded." He explain without going to much detail. "Let's... let's just get to a safe place, okay?"

"Okay."

True to his word, they make it to the evac point shortly after night fall. It is a small cave behind a waterfall. There are supplies to last them a fortnight. The first thing he does is to activate the SHIELD-tech heat orb that RND developed a few months ago. It glowed a dull warm orange and a good one meter radius began to heat. He looked over to the medkit and took out thermal blankets for both of them.

"You good?" He asked as he handed Clint the blanket.

"Peachy" the man sharked back. "I'm hungry."

"I'll go heat up some rations. You stay by the orb." Phil ordered. He left the man beside the orb then made good on his word. They hadn't eaten in a little over a day. He heated enough to feed four people and gave the entire serving to Clint. It was institutionalized Mac and Cheese. He wanted to laugh at the irony.

The man downed it like it was his last meal. Until only the scrape of metal against metal could be heard. He could see the swollen belly and felt his gut lurch. No one should be treated like he had been. It was inhuman and cruel. He wanted nothing more than to hunt the entire operation down until each and every man was skinned alive. If he's feeling generous, he'll save the big boss for Clint's discretion.

Clint looked more like a boy than a full-grown man. Phil could see where he lost muscle during his captivity. It was clear in the hollows of his face. But he fought hard and strongly today. He has more will to stay alive than most of the junior agents Phil's been tasked to handle. He would make a great asset if he agreed to join SHIELD.

"Sleep" he said, gesturing to the makeshift settled against the stone wall. "I'll take first watch." He turned around and headed for the entrance. A light weight on his shoulder made him perk up. Clint stood, back illuminated by the orb behind him. He had something in his hands--SHIELD-issue sweats and a t-shirt. In his blurry daze, Phil forgot the value of clothing.

"I think you need sleep more than me."

"No" he tried to protest but he was being hauled towards the cot. "Rest" Clint said, pushing a hand on his chest. "I'll take watch tonight. I'll wake you at dawn and we will switch." He closes his eyes and is out before he could utter another word.

***

The night is young when Clint wakes up. He is sweating. He can feel the dampness on his armpits, the sweat tricking down his neck, and the warmth emanating from the man below him. Phil is shivering underneath the thermo-blanket and his skin feel like fire to the touch. Clint is acutely aware of just how much skin-on-skin contact they had, pressed together from their chest to their toes. No wonder he felt blazing hot.

He got up, legs only slightly wobbling beneath him. The man had been acting weird all day. He has his doubts when they woke up that the man was warmer than usual. His gut proved right when the man collapsed in the middle of the day. But they were better, this is better, whatever agency equipped this bunker has done a good job. Phil will survive a round of the common flu.

He edged towards the medkit and looked for antibiotics. "Shit, shit, shit" he mumbles. He takes it back. There was bio-hazard tech and enough meds for a paranoid biological warfare but nothing to cure the common cold. "Stupid motherfucking agency." He curses, fighting the urge to throw the useless box away and risk waking the sick man.

 _'Food'_ he thinks. He goes to where he saw Phil get their dinner. He crouches over the box and digs up the rations. It's enough to feed them both for at least two more days. He grabs two packs and the equipment to heat it up. He takes a small basin and fills it up by the fall. He shivers a bit when he walks out if the heat orb's peripheral. The entire thing takes only a few minutes. He looks back and sees that his racket didn't even rouse the man.

"Clint?" He freezes. Phil groggily tries to sit up. He rushes to the older man's side and pushes him back down.

"I'm right here. We're safe." He soothes, resting a hand firmly in the middle of the man's chest. He traces his idly around the scar above one nipple lightly. The first time he saw Phil, he was in the harvesting centre. It was a full day after the explosions erupted the compound. The man was handsome in a subtle way but when he opened his eyes, Clint knew he was a goner. He was a sucker for baby-blues.

Then the man had to go and orchestrate an escape plan and his heart sank. There was absolutely no way that a man with such a high degree of skill would ever look at him like that. They'll make it our together and possibly part as friends. If not, Clint would take the memories of the last two days with him forever.

"Eat" he ordered affectingly, bringing a piece of meat to Phil's mouth. The man looked back at him dazed and complied. On the second spoonful, he began to heave and choke and vomit. Clint had a basin ready for the sick. It was bubbly gastric acids, nothing solid. He frowned. That wasn't good.

He took a small cup and offered Phil some water. The man drank like a dying man in the Sahara. Clint patiently waited for him to get sick again but he didn't. Good. Fluids were good.

"I'll be back" he whispered, giving in to the urge of brushing away Phil's sweaty bangs. He rummaged through the remaining boxes and "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Nothing. There was nothing except solid carbo-high dried foods. Nothing for a sick man to live on. He could cry if he was a weaker man. There was no way to feed Phil. There was---he looked down at his reflection in the small basin of water.

He eyed his body and down to his flaccid cock. It just might work but he's never tried it before without drugs. He might as well. He goes back to the medkit and spots for anything that can be makeshift lube. There's nothing so he goes to the rations and takes the small packet of oil. It'll have to be enough. He rips one with his teeth and pours some on his hand. He gets no response after minutes of trying.

"Motherfucker!" He yells in frustration. He had a dying Alpha and there's nothing he can to do save him. An Alpha who helped him escape the hell-hole he was stuck in. An Alpha who he wanted nothing more than to be _his_ Alpha. And there's nothing he can do. He whimpers defeated and slumps against the bed. He buries his face in Phil's side and inhales the deep musky scent of Alpha. It brings his cock to life. He feels himself harden. He makes an experimental tug and pleasure rises from his cock.

It will work. He struggles to find the best spot to inhale Phil's scent and let the Alpha scent trigger his hormones. The neck was always the best place for that. So he climbs on top of Phil, careful not to jostle the bandages, and buries his face between Phil's neck and shoulders. His scent is stronger here and it drives Clint to full-hardness.

He wonders if it'll be enough. He's never fed straight from his cock before. He was never even given blowjobs before. There wasn't time for that growing up. Alphas wanted cunts not dicks. He had long resigned himself to that fact.

"Phil" he tried to shake the man awake, involuntarily rutting his hips as he said the name. "Phil, wake up. You've got to eat." He says shakily as his body convulses with constrained pleasure  "Phil. Open your goddamn eyes already!"

Phil does and their eyes meet, when he smiles. "Hi"

"Hey, I need you to drink, okay?" Clint says, rising on his knees on either side of Phil's shoulders. The position strains his legs but he has to tough it out.

Phil turns his head away. "Not cattle"

"I know, Phil. But I want you to, okay? You need to drink to get stronger."

"No" Phil declines solidly.

Clint decides to draw on his hunch. He arches back and reaches for Phil's hand and drags it towards his ass. He can feel himself leaking on the back of his thighs. "I want you." He says with utter seriousness. "Can you feel how wet I am? That's cause of you Phil. Not some synthetic drug they used on me. I got hard for you. I am wet for you. So please such my cock before I die of blue balls."

Phil does and Clint's moan echoes throughout the cave. The gentle suction is enough to alleviate the pressure on his cock but "it's not enough" he says behind gritted teeth. On cue, Phil slips a finger down his crease and plunges into him. His back bow and he braces himself on Phil's shoulders, knees going weak. The tingling sensation running down to his ties. He knows he's squirting more and more into Phil's mouth.

"Please please" he can't help but babble as he pushes back against Phil's finger. "Fuck yes's" he groans as another finger breaches him. His toes curl when Phil presses against something and he howls loudly. He has enough brain power to squeeze Phil's shoulders before comes it spurts. The man diligently sucks him to the last drop, sucking on his cock like a babe until he is flaccid and irresponsive.

Clint decides to get off but Phil's hand on his wrist. "Stay" it was more an order than a question and it makes Clint settle down on his side. "Thank you" Phil says "you saved my life." Clint blushes and hides his face in Phil's arm. They stay there, wrapped up in each other, skin pressing together.

 _"ROMEO-OSCAR-CHARLIE-ALPHA-ONE-NINE. Command has evac on the way. Extraction in 0300 hours."_ The radio crackles to life.

"Wohoo" Clint can't help his sarcastic remark.

"Like I promised" Phil comments smugly. "I told you we'll get out of here alive."

"Sir, yes, sir" Clint mocks before falling asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> FULL WARNINGS:  
> \- forced male pregnancy  
> \- forced sexual encounter between main characters  
> \- forced ejaculation  
> \- use of drugs and experimental substances  
> \- induced heat  
> \- human breeders  
> \- massive nudity  
> \- graphic violence  
> \- off-screen rape [past]  
> \- very dubious consent
> 
> How did you like the -verse? It's been in my head for a while now. It's based on my personal lactation kink.
> 
> [ **Got a prompt?** ](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/)


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